


Don't leave me

by VanillaBear



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaBear/pseuds/VanillaBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superman is shot and killed by Green Arrow, leaving his husband to slowly fall a part. But Bruce won't give up, and decides it's time to 'play god' in order to bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't leave me

**Author's Note:**

> Based off an RP.

Bruce never was much into the paranormal; in fact he always tended to slide away from anything that couldn't be explained with cold hard facts. It was just who he was. He certainly never claimed that things such as Aliens, magic or gods weren't real, he just liked to stick to the things he could explain using logic and science. And he definitely couldn't say he didn't believe in aliens since his newly wedded husband was in fact a humanoid alien from the lost planet Krypton. He always knew he had a connection with the man (he never considered him an alien) but he never knew how deep that connection was. As the clock struck twelve he sat up in bed and instantly clutched his throat, a scream of horror escaping him. His eyes were wide with untold terror and a cold sweat dripped off of him.

'It can't be….I need to calm down, it's not real- oh my god where the hell is Clark?!' He tried to calm his thoughts but each time he blinked he would see the same scene that he dreamed. He dreamt that Superman was killed right before him and there was nothing he could do.

He was absolutely powerless as he saw Green Arrow draw his kryptonite tipped arrow, he could see that the archer was aiming for the man of steels neck. And even though he yelled as loud as he could the man of steel did not turn around, did not dodge and the arrow slit through his throat, causing the man to drop to his knees, blood spraying onto the ground. The man of steel gurgled, blood dripping down the corner of his lips, the arrow sticking through his Adams apple. Bruce tried to run to him, tried to catch him before he hit the ground, but Superman fell through him as if he were a ghost, his head hitting the ground with a hollow bang.

Bruce shook his head, trying to clear the 'dream' away as he pulled the covers back, his stomach twisting in panic. "I'll just give him a call, and tell him I was lonely." Bruce said to himself, turning on the light to his masters bedroom, picking up his cell phone from his dresser top, automatically dialing Clarks number.He leaned against the wall, his eyes falling onto the Portrait of his Mother and Father, his heart actually beating faster in fear as no one picked up, he was directed to Clarks voice mail.

"Hello, you reached the voice mail of Clark Kent Wayne, I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and message I will certainly get back to you as soon as possible."

Bruce ended the call, dialing again. Again he was directed.

"Hello, you reached-" In anger he threw the phone down, his blue eyes narrowed. He hastily slammed open the doors to the dresser and tugged on a pair of Clarks pajama bottoms- he was only in his briefs- and grabbed his bathrobe, turning off the lights to the room as he left, heading for the living room to watch the news and not think.

"Master Bruce? Are you all right?" Bruce was half way down the grand staircase when he heard the soft accented voice of his butler. He turned his head to look at the older man, the usual comfort from his appearance un existing. Alfred stood as straight as a board as always, his butler attire replaced with a long black bathrobe. His old brown eyes had a worried gleam to them as he looked upon his 'ward'. "Shall I fetch you some tea?"

"No Alfred, go back to bed." He all but snapped, descending the marble stairs once more, his bare feet making no noise. His hand on the railing was slowly turning white as he squeezed the polish wood, his fingers all but clawing into it. He slowly made his way down the left wing, his eyes used to the darkness. He felt himself become cold. Both physically and mentally as he entered his 'living room'- only falling short of being the size of an actual home movie theatre. He grabbed the remote off the antique coffee table as he turned on the plasma screen. For a moment he considered sitting in his usual seat but decided against it, going over to the love seat, sitting down on the side Clark usually sat on.

He flipped through the channel in uninterest, his mind literally blank as he watched infomercials for useless products like penis enlargements and shampoo that made your hair grow. Though his mind did snap back to reality as he saw a picture of his husband on the screen. He forgot that Clark once did a commercial for Metropolis Hospital; he didn't know they still ran it. His eyes hardened as he saw his husband on the screen pick up a bag of blood, giving out a proper speech about how giving blood could save a life. "Where are you?" He asked the screen, curling in on himself partially, his mind's eye going back to the scene when Superman fell through his arms. He physically shook his head to try and clear it. "No, need to think positive. I am just being worried is all, it's actually natural. Most married men fear for their 'wife's' safety during the first few months. Clark is capable of taking down Green Arrow; I am just missing him is all." He ranted to himself, his stomach once again twisting; he was unaware of the shadow that had entered the room.

The room slowly began to drop in temperature, though Bruce didn't realize, nor did he see the fog that slowly developed the floor. He flipped the channel, shaking his head quickly once more as he thought he felt arms wrapped around him. No sooner then he shook his head the feeling went away, and the early morning news came on, the voice of Lois Lane greeting the night owls.

"Good morning all you Night Owls out there, it is now one AM and I am Lois Lane, here with the story that will rock Metropolis and all of the surrounding cities. Superman this morning at midnight was struck and reportedly killed after being hunted down by ex-league member Green Arrow. The cause of death was reported as a Kryptonite tipped arrow to the throat. Green Arrow is now being sent to Long Island penitentiary while the search for Superman's body is underway. More details on this story as the-"

CRACK!

The picture of Lois began to warp before the TV fizzled and died the remote sticking out of the screen. The bathrobe now laid on the floor in a crumpled mess as Bruce stood up, his body shaking in a deadly mixture of rage and despair. He glared at the TV, gripping his black hair as a scream of rage ripped out of his throat. He kicked at the coffee table, pushing it over, managing to break the glass counter. It didn't make him feel better.

He was about to go on a destruction spree throughout the room when he felt someone touch him. It wasn't a strong touch, almost as if it were a gentle breeze that touched his shoulder. Bruce looked down to the floor, his shoulders slumping as he righted the coffee table, heading back up stairs to sleep, perhaps this was all a terrible nightmare and in the morning he would find himself pressed up against the wall and Clarks back. He smiled softly at the thought.

The next morning came and went and Bruce found himself alone. Alfred had already cleaned up the living room and ordered a new TV. Stories passed through the League on what had happened, news reporters claiming it was a heroic death of the century, and slowly, as day by day moved on, Bruce found himself drowning in his own anger and misery.

"Master Bruce, may I suggest something?" It had been three weeks since the death of his husband and Bruce was more hell bent on Green Arrows own death as each day passed. He sat up in the Bat Caves loft, a scruff of a beard on his chin and jaw, dark rings under his eyes. He had done nothing but watch old news clips of Superman and read articles written by Clark Kent, his whole life was now a shamble.

"I love him Alfred." He spoke, his voice gruff from all the hours of useless screaming as he punched the caves rock wall. "I know I said it to Talia, and Selina, and even at one time to Diana. I loved them, but this love I hold for Clark, for Kal-El, it's different." He turned around, his face void of all emotion. "Don't suggest I go to the hospital again, there's no pill that will make me happy."

"Heavens know there's no pill for a grieving husband." Alfred said gently, placing down a tray next to Bruce's papers, a meager offering of black coffee and vitamin supplements. "Master Bruce, you may listen to my advice and think me mad, but I do not believe that Master Clark is deceased. There is no proper evidence to support this. Master Clark is full of many surprises, such as the time when he lost his eye fighting the Elite, did it not grow back? Or the time he escaped War World, or supposedly died during the fight with Apocalypse. They were unable to find a body, maybe by chance it's because he's somewhere healing."

"Alfred, if he was alive he would contact me." Bruce swallowed two vitamin B tablets, washing them down with the coffee.

"But Master Bruce, maybe he has." Alfred took the paper that was under his arm and placed it out before his 'ward' showing him the head line. It declared a strange fog that would not release its hold on Metropolis City. "In my youth I would read many a novel about valor and mystery, and all of them had a theme, the hero never perished. In all the paranormal books I have read after your parent's death I realized something, the stronger the activity is, the closer the 'spirit' or 'body' is."

"What are you trying to say Alfred?" Bruce's head ached, as he rubbed his forehead. "That he's waiting for me to go to Metropolis so he can say goodbye?" A shiver ran down his back once more as he felt as if someone had wrapped their arms around him. He looked down and again the feeling was gone.

"Perhaps not to say goodbye, but I do think you should go. If not to find him but at least to make peace." He hesitantly placed his white gloved hand on Bruce's shoulder. "You deserve peace Master Bruce, we all do." He stood back, taking the newspaper and the finished coffee cup away. "Good night Master Bruce."

"Good night Alfred." Bruce waited for a moment or two as he stared at the computer monitor, finally moving out of his chair. He ran a hand through his dark hair and bit back a sigh, heading up stairs to shower, he was going to go to Metropolis, and he wasn't leaving unless he had Superman's body, dead or alive.

By the time Bruce was showered and dressed in a simple civilian outfit the clock struck ten thirty. He took his black mustang, instead of the Batmobile, but just he got into the car and buckled in he felt as if someone was sitting on his lap. His eyes widened, and he instantly looked down, seeing nothing but the fabric of his denim. "Get a grip." He snapped to himself as he left the manors drive way, taking the back road to Metropolis knowing it would be faster than taking the highway…

It was quarter to twelve when he finally stopped the car on the outskirts of Metropolis City, taking in the dream like sight before him as he walked into the blanketed city. The city that was full of people who were always in a rush was gone, instead the streets were empty and barely a car moved. Most of the lights were off in the buildings, save for a few late night convenient stores and street lamps. The Daily Planet globe was lit up as usual; the shine of the gold giving an eerie color to the fog that began to grow thicker as each second passed. The rumor was that the shadow could be scene in the fog, and as Bruce continued walking, he could make out a silhouette of a man, just a few feet in front of him.

"Clark?" He whispered despite himself, moving closer to the silhouette. He heard a dearly missed chuckle and as he got closer he stopped. The silhouette was just that, a shadow, but he could make out from it a male figure, the same height as his husband. "Clark…"

"Find me." The voice was a whisper, it seemed to echo in his ears, it sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once. "Find me." The whisper was almost gone now, but Bruce could tell it was Clark, and his heart nearly broke at how sad and lonely the other sounded. The shadow began to move and Bruce chased after it, but no matter how close he got the figure was always two steps ahead of him.

"Wait! I'm trying!" Bruce yelled, trying to reach him, he ran as fast as he could, slowly noticing they were heading to the Daily Planet. The fog grew thicker, making the shadow vanish, leaving Bruce in front of the Daily Planets front entrance, the feeling of dread hanging in the air. "You're here aren't you? Your body is here." He whispered, pulling up his shirt to reveal his emergency belt, pulling out a pin from the left compartment as he began to pick the locks. He no longer felt Clark's presence, but the fog remained, wet, almost smothering him as he worked on his breathing.

Bruce pulled out the pin as he heard a hollow click, placing it back in his department, with the fog as thick as it was he was not afraid of being scene both by any passer byer- not that there was one- or from the security cameras angled at the door. He slipped in, closing it firmly behind self as he entered the abandoned building. He could feel a soft wind blowing at him, more to the right then to the left. He took a few steps in, passing the metal detectors, heading to the north side, trying to remember what was done there. He knew Clarks office was upstairs to the left right next to Lois's and Jimmies, but there were no stairs on the right side that lead to the upstairs, only a printing room and…the basement. "Are you in the basement?" He asked, not expecting an answer as he trailed his hand against the wall as he walked, hearing three loud bangs. Y-E-S. He nodded. "Can you do that again?" He asked, wanting to make sure it wasn't perhaps an old pipe line shaking into the granite walls.

Again he heard three sharp bangs, a fact that made him smile even more. He hurried as he felt the wind drop, the fog nothing more than a mere haze. "Are you-" He couldn't bare to think of the answer. "Are you trying to say goodbye?"

He was this time greeted by two soft bangs, as if Clark was sadly knocking his knuckles against the walls. "It's ok, I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere." Bruce whispered, taking the stairs two at a time as he made his way down to the basement floor. He tried the door, of course it was locked. He reached for the pin again when he felt arms wrap around him, preventing him from doing so. He didn't look; knowing if he did the feeling would go away. He stayed completely still. "I miss you to Clark."

"Lonely." Was the only word he could whisper in his ear, the voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, and I'm here to fix that." He had to blink quickly to keep his eyes from tearing up, showing emotions such as sorrow was hard for him, and he at times denied having said emotion. He slowly brought the pin to the lock, working on it like he did the first door, though this time having to fight with it. The lock was old, rusted, refusing to give. He placed the pin back, pulling out a spare batarang, slicing through the old metal of the door knob, pulling it out cause the door itself to open. He slipped the tool back into its pouch, backing away slightly as fog bellowed out of the doorway, an icy wind hitting him straight on. "Not going to scare me away Clark."

He flicked the light switch; the light flickered on for a moment before turning back on. He resorted to going down the stairs slowly, gripping the railing tightly. The steps creaked under his weight, shaking partially as he continued. When he was positive he was on solid ground he looked around. He could make out the silhouettes of filing cabinets and tables, even an antique printer, but no body. "Clark, show me." He called, looking for a flash light, unable to find one.

"So close." Was the whispered response.

Bruce growled in annoyance, more at the situation then at Clark. He walked around the room, partially blind, tapping on the tables, moving his feet carefully to feel unexplained bumps; he only stopped when he felt something soft against his fingertips. He turned to the table; he could feel fabric, something that felt like a cape!

He reached for his phone and flipped it open, using the light to see. He looked down sadly as he saw the body, still perfectly preserved, almost in a Snow White like state. Clark body was laid out flat, his legs together, and arms crossed over his chest, his hands up to cross his heart. His eyes were closed and his mouth partially open, he looked as if he were sleeping, the only thing off was the bloody gap that in the middle of his neck. It looked as if it were healing, dried blood all around it. He brought his right hand up and forward, stroking Clark's hair, it was still soft and smooth. His other hand touched the wound, his eyes blurring. "Clark…" He blinked quickly, pressing his lips to the dead man's lips, they were cold as ice. "I want to save you, please, I'll do anything Clark, just tell me what to do." His voice shook. He smoothed out Superman's hair, pulling the curl onto his forehead.

"Can you fix me?" Bruce looked up, in front of him was Clark, but at the same time it wasn't him. He was faded, his colors there but not as vibrant, he could see through him. The phantom like figure rubbed at its throat, whispering his question once more. Bruce looked down, bringing the phone closer to the wound to examine it. If his heart muscles were still perfectly preserved and he was somehow able to close the wound and shock him, he might have a chance to at least awaken some sort of response from the body.

"I think so; it's going to take time." He told the phantom, placing his phone down, searching through the various compartments of his belt to look for some temporary tools. He sighed; he didn't have the right tools. "Clark…I'll be back, just hang on, ok? Just stay right here."

The phantom watched sadly as Bruce ran up the stairs, leaving him to stand next to his dead body, his hand going through his own chest. He 'sat' on the table, waiting, hoping Bruce wouldn't abandon him like Jimmy and Lois did when they found his body. He felt his soul start to sink deeper into the pit of despair, the fog enwrapping the city, temperatures in a five mile radius dropping.

Just when it felt like Bruce was never going to come back a bright light filled the room, and for a moment Clarks soul panicked, he thought it was the 'reaper' trying to pull him to the other side! But low and behold there was Bruce, fully donned in his Bat suit, holding out a flood light lamp firmly in his left hand. "I told you I would be back." He said, walking over to the body, giving the dead lips a kiss once more. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, I had to pick up a few things."

Clarks shadow gave him a nod, watching him intently. Bruce pulled out a wire and carefully hung the lamp downwards, using the light to illuminate Clark's body. Grabbing an old folder he propped his knees up, elevating his legs. He placed a small crimson bag on the table, elevating his arms the same way he did the legs. With a small kryptonite tipped needle he worked on his throat, sewing the disturbed flesh together, making sure the rope was taunt before snipping it. "You ready Kal?" He finally asked as he inserted an I.V into Clarks arm, squeezing the bag to insert the blood quickly. Once the bag was done draining he removed the needle, pushing down on his chest. "You're coming back to me, that's a promise."

Bruce reached into his last, slightly bigger compartment and pulled from it what looked to be a little black box. He placed the device on Clark's chest. "This is going to give you about three times the legal watt limit they give to patients who suffered from a cardiac arrest. If what I think is happening is true, once I administer the shock I want you to try and go back to your body, do you understand? We only have one chance at this." His voice became quiet. "And I will not lose you."

"You won't." Clark whispered, feeling the first real emotion besides despair as he walked over to his corpse, the mist growing thicker till Bruce couldn't see anything but the blurred gray.

The fog slowly began to vanish, the room temperature slowly coming up. But as Bruce looked down, he saw no movement. No REM, no noises, no breath. He swallowed thickly, removing the box. His eyes misted over once more as he placed his lips over Clarks, giving him one final kiss. But as he placed his lips on his, his eyes widened. They felt warm!

His hand instantly went to his neck to feel for a heartbeat, and after a moment of waiting he felt on. Not a powerful one, but one in fact existed. "Clark, come on, pull through." Blood seeped from the stitching, his chest rising slowly as he choked on a breath. Finally after what seemed to be an eternity, Clark's eyes opened, blinking slowly.

"B-Bruce." He croaked his voice raw. He continued to breathe slowly, his eyes fighting to stay open. "Don't- Don't let them take me." He whispered, slowly moving his arms to embrace him.

Bruce wasn't going to question who 'they' were. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, fighting back the tears but slowly losing as they fell down his face silently. "Don't you ever fucking leave me again, do you understand me?!" He gripped him as tight as he could. "Don't you ever put me through this hell again."

Slowly Clark ran his fingers through Bruce's hair, lying back down on the table, his body heat picking up again. "I love you Bruce."

"I love you too." Bruce choked, hoisting himself up onto the table so he could be closer to him, his chest pressed up against Clarks. "I love you more than the world itself. The world can burn to the ground for all I care."

Clark wrapped his arms around his shoulders, nuzzling his nose to the crook of his neck. "I won't leave you ever again." He promised, eyes shutting from complete exhaustion.

"You better wake up tomorrow." Bruce gruffed, whipping his tears onto Supermans 'S'.

"I will, I promise." His eyes remained close.

And he would, for Superman never breaks a promise.


End file.
